Recoil
by TrixieTornado
Summary: "She gave a dry sob as tears once again leaked from her recently dried eyes, but she pointed her wand straight at his heart and blinked back tears." Aftermath of Godric's Hollow. Harry is having fits and visions in his sleep. Hermione has to cope and keep them safe, because when it comes down to it she will always be there to take care of him. Oneshot


**My take on what happens after the escape from Godric's Hollow in DH from Hermione's perspective. I tried to be completely compliant with the book. Most dialogue is taken directly from the book. I don't own anything, but you already knew that.**

**xXx**

The first thing she was aware of was the dry and icy air, piercing her skin and senses as they touched down on fresh snow. She heard his body make contact with the ground and her own knees buckled with exhaustion. Her numb hands pushed against the ground as she spat out some blood onto the otherwise pristine white snow. Shaking, she took in her surroundings, sure that they were alone and had not been followed, but terrified all the same. She released the second, broken wand she had been clutching and turned to him.

"Harry? _Harry_, are you—?"

But her breath caught in her throat and she flung herself towards him. He was clutching his face tightly as if trying to pry it off, his whole body twitching. He released intermittent gasps. The last traces of his Muggle disguise slipped away as the Polyjuice Potion wore off, but that was not the cause of his pain. His muscles were tight and try as she might she could not draw his arms away.

"Harry, please, come back. We're okay," Hermione choked out, pulling at the tips of his icy fingers as she leaned over him to hold him down. "Everything's alright; we're safe!"

She struggled for several more minutes, pinning him and sobbing out reassuring words. Her mind was racing. They had escaped narrowly but she could tell his mind and part of his soul was tethered back to the ruins and the window they just jumped out of. The presence of Voldemort was almost tangible as she watched Harry suffer.

A loud, scratchy moan escaped him and his grip loosened. She took advantage of it and clasped his hands in hers; she squeezed any warmth she had left into his. His face was pale and strained, and his glasses were askew. She took a few deep breaths and watched him carefully, afraid to make any movement. Feeling his body relax slightly, she tentatively straightened his glasses, held her hand against his cheek for a brief moment, and then assessed the rest of his body. With a gasp, she noticed the large puncture marks on his forearm where the snake had obviously bitten him. It was bleeding profusely and when she glanced down Hermione realized that she was now smeared in his blood as well. She immediately fumbled in her jacket pocket for her beaded bag and as soon as she pulled it out she drew it open.

"_Accio Dittany!_"

The tiny bottle zoomed out of the bag and she caught it, and then cast the bag aside. She siphoned as much blood off the wound as she could, then applied a fair amount of the potion to his arm, watching it heal slightly and finally stop bleeding. She summoned some bandages and wrapped his arm up, relieved when they stayed clean. She continued her examination. Other than some small cuts and a few bruises, he was free of any other injuries. There was certainly nothing else life-threatening as far as she could tell.

With extreme apprehension, she pushed herself up to her feet with only slightly more of a wobble than she expected.

With Harry still in full view, she began performing the protective spells and enchantments that had become second nature, keeping a steady and concentrated voice. When she felt satisfied that they were fully protected, she returned to the beaded bag lying next to Harry.

"_Accio tent!_"

A mass of canvas and poles fell out onto the ground before her. She slowly set it up, constantly glancing around into the frozen forest surrounding them. After she hastily lit a few lights inside, she returned out to Harry, bent down, and gently nudged him, calling out to him to awaken him.

He did not wake. She did not expect him to, as he was still breathing heavily and his brow was furrowed. She shook him a little harder a second time and when he remained unmoving she knelt, hooked her arms underneath his armpits, and pulled him into a sitting position. He slumped forward against her and she clutched his sweater at the nape of his neck, her arms around him. She was in no state to carry him, and he was certainly in no state to be carried. With a broken sigh, she laid him back onto the snow, careful not to hurt his wound. She reached over to where Harry's broken wand lay with the beaded bag and gently picked them up and pocketed them both.

"I wish you weren't so heavy, Harry, but I suppose this is better. I won't accidentally hurt your arm, at least."

With another deep breath, she raised her own wand again and performed a Hover Charm on him. Carefully she guided him over to the mouth of the tent. She held it open as his limp body passed though. Once she had deposited him gently on her bunk, which was nearest, she took off her bloodstained coat and hung it on a chair. She pulled out her ponytail and retied it to capture the many strands that had fallen out into her face. Hermione then walked over to the sink to wash her hands, wincing when she noticed the scrapes on her knuckles. When she finished cleaning up her face as well, she pulled her sweater up over her head and then hastily changed into a fresh shirt from her bag, shivering from the cold. Feeling slightly better with most traces of their traumatic incident off of her, she pulled a chair over next to the still unconscious Harry, a damp cloth in her hands.

Hermione noticed that his breathing had started to quicken again. He was sweating profusely and shifting his legs back and forth. Her heart pounding, she pulled his sweater over his head and unbuttoned and removed his shirt, taking care again not to touch his bandaged arm. He was moaning again.

With a jerk, Hermione's attention was drawn to the horcrux around his neck. It was practically affixed to the center of his chest. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and she hastened to remove it, tugging hard, but it was stuck, almost as if it were an extension of Harry's own heart. She gave a dry sob as tears once again leaked from her recently dried eyes, but she pointed her wand straight at his heart and blinked back tears.

"_D-Difindo!_"

The horcrux rocketed away from Harry's chest, yanked back by the chain, and Hermione quickly took it off from around his neck. She flung it over onto the nearby table and tears were streaming down her face by the time she looked back at Harry. There was a neat and shallow oval wound where the locket had just been. She dripped some more Dittany on it, and it smoothed over, leaving a scarlet scar. She lightly ran the tips of her fingers over it. Hermione jumped when a teardrop landed right next to her finger and she returned to her task.

The damp cloth lay temporarily forgotten on the floor. She picked it up and began gingerly dabbing at Harry's hand, tending to each cut, scrape, and scratch she could find on him. Once he was cleaned up, more so than even she was at this point, she withdrew a clean t-shirt out of his rucksack and pulled it over his head. She rested her hand over his heart and let her eyes linger on his face, willing the brief moment of peace that he was currently set in to last forever.

She remained sitting there like that for quite a few minutes. It wasn't until she gave an unexpected violent shiver that she realized she was still freezing. She reluctantly got up, put on a kettle of water, and resumed the job of cleaning herself up. She changed from her jeans into a fresh pair of sweatpants, cleansing and bandaging a shallow gash she hadn't even noticed just above her knee in the process. She slipped on the fuzziest pair of socks she could find before pulling her boots back on over them.

The kettle whined at her from the stove, so she fashioned up two steaming mugs of tea for herself and, hoping he would awaken soon, Harry.

Tea in hand, she sat back down in the seat next to Harry.

It was another hour and a half before Harry awoke.

In the meantime, he went through a series of episodes. He would lay motionless, breathing rhythmically one minute, then suddenly fall into deep distress. He thrashed about, screaming and gasping for air, the blankets twisting around beneath him. As soon as Hermione could hold his hands and whisper soothing words to him, he would relax again. Every time this happened she would wipe him down with a wet sponge and lay her hand over his heart until his pulse returned completely to normal, hers along with it.

His tea lay cold and forgotten on the table.

"No... No… I dropped it…"

It was almost dawn and the longest period since his last outbreak. Hermione had been beginning to hope he had fallen into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. But he was moaning once more, and Hermione leaned forward again. He didn't start screaming yet, and this time he seemed more himself. His words were discernible. Hermione anxiously called out to him again and again, praying that he was nearing the surface. He was drenched in sweat. His hair was plastered to his forehead.

"Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!"

He stopped moving but was breathing fast and hard. Then, Hermione's heart failed her as he opened his eyes.

He seemed to take in his surroundings for a moment, faintly concerned, but looking thoroughly drained.

"Harry, do you feel all—" she faltered briefly, and then whispered, "all right?"

"Yes."

He was lying, and she knew it. She was even sure he knew she knew it.

"We got away," he continued.

"Yes," she breathed out.

She started to describe to him what had happened after they disapparated, but she couldn't bring herself to give him the details of his turmoil. Why should he have to experience it a second time? And what then, feel guilty?

He examined the scar on his chest once she explained and apologized. She fought back tears and the urge to press her fingertips to the scarlet oval again. He tried to apologize for pushing for them to go to Godric's Hollow in the first place, but she shot it down immediately. They had both been so hopeless, so desperate for a new lead, that it was easy for them to let themselves believe the village held answers.

He insisted that she go to sleep and he take the next watch, but when he asked for his wand she hesitated. This was the moment she was most afraid of. What would Harry think when she told him his wand was broken? And that it was probably her fault?

"Where's my wand, Hermione?" he repeated.

She bit her lip and felt tears well up once more in her eyes. The weight of the guilt she felt was closing her throat. Would he shout at her? She had been so worried about him and felt so weak right now. Hermione couldn't stand the thought of him seeing her fall apart completely. She was supposed to be brave; Harry had enough to deal with without having to comfort her. She summoned her courage and spoke softly, trying to keep him calm.

"Harry…"

"_Where's my wand?_"

Hermione reached down to where she had set it next to the bed, and tenderly picked up the wand. She held it out in her palm for him to examine.

She saw something die in his eyes at that moment. He took it in his own fingers and she had never seen him look so defeated.

"Mend it. Please."

He tried unsuccessfully to hide the panic in his voice.

"Harry, I don't think, when it's broken like this—"

"Please, Hermione, try!"

It was the desperation in his voice when he said her name that got her. She raised her wand and repaired the pathetic remains of his. He determinedly tried a few spells, willing it to work. It broke her heart to see him so hopeless.

Hermione choked out a whispered apology, telling him that in the heat of battle it might have been her fault. He cut her off, assuring her that it was only an accident. She was far from reassured. His voice held little emotion.

She tried to be realistic with him when he said they would be able to repair it. She was afraid that he would carry false hope with him and then lash out at her when nothing worked. Harry asked for her wand and told her to go to sleep in a voice quite different from his own as he turned to leave the tent. Hermione watched him walk away numbly, wishing he had yelled at her.

She would later bring him a fresh cup of tea after she awoke from sleep plagued by Harry's screams in her head. He was still a little short with her, but she knew that it was worth it to keep him safe. She could endure worse.

**xXx**

**I'm not altogether happy with the ending. I wanted to follow the book, but didn't want to just throw in a bunch of the exact dialogue. Any suggestions are heartily welcome for where I could take this little piece.**

**-Emma**


End file.
